Escape From Hell Read Online Free Page B

part was that I understood every one of them. They were all saying there’d been a big bang, and there I was, in wisps of pink fog that were coming together, and they’d never seen anything like that.”
    “Simple curiosity,” Sylvia said. “I can understand that.”
    “Maybe.”
    •    •    •
    I t would have to be damned strong curiosity. Have I mentioned the wasps? The Vestibule is full of them. Maybe they’re attracted to people standing still. This crowd was drawing a lot of them.
    I bent over to pick up my bottle. Someone shouted at me, and I said something stupid like, “It’s all right, that’s my bottle. It’s where I started.” Wasn’t there something else I ought to tell them? “I know the way out!”
    There was this tall guy, clean shaven, funny haircut. Ordinary dirty robe like most wore. Like I was wearing. My robe had reassembled itself, too. I thought I ought to recognize him, but I didn’t. He had a question.
    “Is that a cause worth dying for?” He sounded serious, but there was this cynical flavor, too. Infuriating.
    “You’re already dead,” I informed him.
    “You are certain of this?”
    “Damn straight I’m certain. I know how I died, and I met lots of other people who know how they died. Everyone here is dead. Don’t you know what killed you?”
    “Of course I do. And I have been here long enough that I cannot still be alive.”
    “So why do you doubt that you’re dead?” This seemed like a silly conversation, except that I noticed a dozen others listening to me.
    “Sir. What is your name?” one asked me. She was a woman about forty, and she’d been attractive in life. Even here she was primped, her dark hair braided since she didn’t have a comb, and her robe was clean. I wondered if she’d washed it in the river. That would have been dangerous, or Benito said it was.
    “Allen Carpenter.”
    “Rosemary Bennett, Mr. Carpenter. I’ll take your case.”
    She seemed serious. I studied her. Dark braided hair. Brown eyes, large and clear. A full mouth with what I can only describe as a professional smile designed to put me at ease.
    “What?”
    She ignored me. “Mr. Carpenter represents that it is self–evident that we are all dead,” she said. “Signor Crinatelli disputes this, but admits that all the evidence known to him supports that hypothesis.”
    “I dispute that.” He was on the other side of this circle around me. Tall, silver haired, a voice that practically reeked of credibility. Silver–tongued devil, I thought. “We do not stipulate that all the evidence known to us supports that hypothesis.”
    “The admission was made in open court, and we all heard it.
Resipso loquat.
”
    “It was not, and in any event it was an unprepared statement made before counsel was appointed, and thus not admissible.”
    “I object!”
    “You can’t object, you don’t represent anyone here.”
    “I am amicus curiae!”
    “Overruled.”
    “You’re not the magistrate! It’s not your day!”
    “How do you know what day it is? It is my day to preside.”
    “It is not. I appeal!”
    But now they were all talking at once, and I realized something. They were all talking, and I could understand what they were saying, but half of them didn’t understand each other. Or did they? Maybe they just weren’t listening.
    “I have doubted everything. Why should I not doubt that as well?” Signor Crinatelli asked.
    “May it please the Court to ask the witness to speak through counsel,” said the man who’d claimed he was a friend of the court.
    I kept wondering who these people were. Then again, this was the Vestibule, the place for ditherers. They weren’t likely to be famous.
    I ignored them all and went over to Crinatelli. “What have you been doing all the time you were here?”
    “Slapping wasps.” He slapped hard at one.
    “Please, I can’t hear you, how can I plead for you if I can’t hear you?” The lady who’d appointed herself my counsel was